More Than A Security Blanket
by superwholockgiraffe
Summary: When living out of cheap motel rooms and a 1967 Chevy Impala, you get close to the things that remind you of home.


_Canton, Ohio -1987_

"You watch out for your brother, you got that?" John stood at the door, a duffle bag hoisted high on his shoulder. Dean sighed and nodded. This wasn't his first rodeo.

"I got it, Dad. Watch out for Sammy, I always do."

John paused and looked over his eldest son before glancing at the small 4 year old who sat in front of the motel TV. He nodded and ruffled Dean's hair before slinking out the door and away into the night.

Dean looked after his father, a mild expression of longing briefly floating across his face. Some day he would do what his dad did... but for now he was stuck taking care of Sam. Not that he minded taking care of Sam. He always had, and he always would. It was just a lot to put on an 8 year old. Striding over to his younger brother, he plopped down on the couch beside him, a small smile on his face.

"Dean, I'm cold." The 4 year old turned to look at his big brother, his lips pushed out in an exaggerated pout. Dean rolled his eyes. Of course Sammy wouldn't let him get comfortable and watch cartoons.

He walked over to the motel bed, carefully pulling the sheets off and dragging them over to the couch. He placed them on top of Sam and watched as the younger Winchester cocooned himself in the blankets. He sat back down beside his brother and after a few moments turned back to look at him. "Is that better?"

Sam looked up, considering the question and then shook his head. "Not really..."

"Well, that's all your blankets, Sammy." Dean said looking at his brother tiredly.

"But I'm still cold..."

Dean sat for a moment, contemplating his options before he shook his head and went to go grab the blankets from the other motel bed. Once wrapped in the second set of sheets, Sam fell asleep almost instantly, leaving Dean in the middle of a boring motel room with two beds void of warmth.

He looked around the room, frustrated, before his eyes fell on his dad's leather jacket. He usually had it on at all times, but for some reason today he had left it hung up over the back of an armchair.

Dean sighed, and grabbed the jacket. Sulking over to one of the empty beds, he lay down making sure he could still see Sam from where he was.

Satisfied with his position, he draped the jacket over his legs and chest and curled up. This was as warm as he would get, but it was okay if Sammy was sleeping soundly. And he liked his dad's jacket. He could still smell the mixture of cologne and smoke on it that he associated with his dad and that was more comforting than any motel blanket could ever be.

_Omaha, Nebraska-1989_

"You boys okay back there?" John's eyes shifted up to the rearview mirror, meeting Dean's in the process.

"We're fine, Dad." John stared at his son skeptically, noting the hitch in his voice that was caused by him restraining a yawn and the small shiver that passed through him. He glanced at Sam who had already fallen asleep with his small head against his big brother's shoulder. John smiled sightly and reached beside him for his jacket, handing it back to his sons.

"Here, you should catch some shut eye. We've gotta long drive ahead."

Dean took the jacket and nodded gratefully, laying it on top of him and Sam. He snuggled back into the leather seats of the Impala and rested his head against Sam's, soon drifting off into a restful sleep.

_Buffalo, New York- 1997_

"I don't see why this is such a big deal! It's one party, Dad, _please!" _

Dean rolled his eyes and cranked up the volume on his walkman. Through the blaring of AC/DC, he could still hear John shout something back in response to whatever Sam had asked. Why the kid needed to go to some nerdy dude's house party, he had no clue. There wouldn't be any hot chicks there that was for sure.

"Sam, I said "no" for the last time, dammit." The fight continued on for half an hour or so more before Dean finally got fed up. He grabbed his dad's jacket (he'd started borrowing it as soon as the sleeves got to be the right size)from the closet and shrugged it on before heading out the door. They were so caught up in their fight, Sam and John didn't even notice he had left.

Dean smiled at the key's for the Impala that sat in his hand. He had snatched them off the nightstand with the intention of going for a long and much needed drive. He walked over to the car, patting its hood happily before sliding into the driver's seat. He sat behind the wheel for a few moments before he looked back at the motel and shook his head. Once they got fighting, it took hours for it to settle down. No matter how trivial the argument was, they would keep going until the other gave up.

He sighed and exited the front seat in favour of the back, knowing it would be a lot quieter to sleep in the car than to try and catch some z's while they were going at it. He sat for a while in the backseat with the jacket around his shoulders before he took it off and draped it across himself like a blanket. He lay down with his head on the seat and smiled to himself, thinking of all the road trips where Sam had fallen asleep in the back with him, and their dad had placed his jacket over them like a security blanket.

But it was more than that, he thought to himself , staring up at the hood of the Impala. This car, and this jacket were the only constant objects in his life. This jacket made any crappy motel room instantly homier and knowing the Impala was parked just outside made him safe.

With those thoughts in his head, he smiled wistfully and nodded off.

_Greybull, Wyoming-2008_

Dean lay on the crappy motel mattress and glanced over at the other queen-sized bed. He scoffed at the gigantic outline of his "little" brother and wondered where the days had gone when he used to be able to rest his elbow on top of Sam's head. He rolled over, shifting the old leather jacket across his chest.

It was stupid, he thought, that he'd still sleep with the jacket over him sometimes. Sam was old enough now to tough it out when he was cold or have the good sense to put on a sweater. But Dean liked it. He liked sleeping with his dad's old jacket over him the way he used to when he was a kid.

It was comforting. Because over 20 years later, it was still here. Even though it smelt like his cologne instead of his dad's, he liked the familiar weight of it on his chest. He leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He had his jacket and his baby was parked outside, while his brother was sleeping beside him. As long as he had all three, he knew he'd be okay.


End file.
